


Edge Closer

by KivaEmber



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Metaverse (Persona 5), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Identity Issues, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Secret Identity, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: The Phantom Thieves are a successful and famous vigilante group well known for exposing corrupted people by revealing their crimes to the public. For well over a year, they remained unchallenged, staying one step ahead of the police and garnering the support of the public for their justice.And then the mysterious Black Mask enters the scene and muddies the water instantly.Or;Akira is Joker of the Phantom Thieves. Akechi is Black Mask, the dangerous vigilante who won't hesitate to dirty his hands for justice. These secret identities of theirs are in direct opposition... which makes things awkward since their real identities know each other, and aredating.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 253





	1. Enter: Black Mask!

Joker adjusted his gloves as he patiently waited in the shadow of a particularly tall houseplant. 

_“Okay, Joker, it looks like it’s clear from here on out,”_ Oracle’s voice crackled in his earpiece, _“No guards this close to his office.”_

“And _in_ his office?”

A noise of frustration, _“Ugh, I can’t- access? Must be an archaic closed circuit system. He_ is _there, though! He hasn’t left his office since he entered it earlier this afternoon!”_

Fairly long hours for a corrupt official, Joker mused, but didn’t question it. Quite a few things could only be done once everyone else had gone home, though this guy tended to intimidate his lower-level employees into doing the dirty work for him. Blackmail, extortion, intimidation, sexual harassment, this guy was _awful._

 _so, why’s he doing the work himself tonight?_ Something in Joker asked, instilling a tiny seed of caution in him. It wasn’t his usual MO. 

Well, he’ll find out soon enough. Stealthily, he swept out from around the houseplant, darting through the blocky hallways towards his destination. A minor governmental building, it had an easy blueprint to navigate if you knew how to read signs, and soon enough he was outside the office of one Ota-san. It was silent. 

He carefully eased the door open, sweeping it open and

_oh._

Ota-san was indeed in the office, except he seemed to be very preoccupied in getting _garrotted_ at the moment. Joker froze, his gaze jerking up to the figure _behind_ his target: tall, dark and presumably handsome - the sleek, black mask covering his face hid whatever malevolent beauty he might have conceivably possessed. 

Clawed, gauntleted hands flexed around the thin wire pulled taut around the wheezing Ota-san’s throat, then, in an abrupt, brutal movement, Black Mask-san grabbed his head and snapped his neck with one sharp, sickening _‘crack’_ and that was that. 

Ota-san tumbled out of his chair with a _‘thud’_. Black Mask-san rolled his built shoulders, letting out a low, satisfied _‘hm’_. The sleek, black bodysuit left _nothing_ to the imagination, and Joker made the detached observation that if things got physical, Black Mask-san definitely had the advantage of strength, height and _bulk._

 _hot,_ something squeaked in the back of his brain.

“Uh,” Joker said, stunned stupid for a moment, “What-”

 **“You were taking too long,”** a deep voice rumbled - clearly artificial. Looks like that fancy mask hid a voice modulator in it, **“Try to keep up next time.”**

“Next time?”

But Black Mask-san wasn’t in the mood to chat. With a strange, coy air that was at odds with his threatening appearance, he lifted a clawed finger to his mask, miming a shushing motion, and then pointed over Joker’s shoulder - where the door was still open. 

_“Joker! What are you doing?!”_ Oracle’s voice suddenly burst through his earpiece, sounding frantic, _“Can’t you hear me?! Security guards are inbound! Joker!”_

Ah, shit. 

Joker hesitated for a second - Black Mask-san didn’t move, didn’t seem concerned about the approach of guards - before turning on his heel and quickly retreating. Getting pinned with a murder charge didn’t sound like his idea of a good time. 

He felt Black Mask-san’s eyes on him long after he had left. 

* * *

“Honey, I’m home!”

Akira kicked his shoes off as he heard a muffled reply, stowing his bag in the entrance way closet to deal with much later. The tension he had been carrying from his botched job eased as he stepped into the main living area to see Goro sprawled out lazily on the sofa, book open on his lap. His hair was a little damp. He must’ve showered recently. 

“You’re home late,” Goro said, closing his book just as Akira flopped down beside him. He was smiling though, so he obviously wasn’t annoyed about his tardiness, “Did something happen?”

“Nah,” Akira said airily, curling up against his boyfriend’s side and resting his cheek on his shoulder. He felt an arm wrap around his waist, giving him a small yet strong squeeze. Despite coming across as a fussy bookworm with his sweater-vests and sunny demeanour, Goro was ridiculously strong. Akira loved it; “Just lost track of time.” 

Goro sighed indulgently, lifting his book to gently bonk him on the head, “I thought you were going to work on that terrible habit?”

“I am!” Akira mock-whined, “It’s before midnight, isn’t it?”

 _if only because my night got cut short,_ he admitted to himself with some guilt. 

“I suppose that is something,” Goro said dryly, extracting himself from Akira’s hold to stand up, “Come on, get ready for bed. I’m exhausted.”

“I tell you not to wait up.”

“And wake up in the middle of the night when you trip over every piece of furniture in the apartment? No, thank you.”

“I don’t trip over every single one!”

“Enough to make me think an intruder is invading our apartment then,” Goro poked him in the forehead, “ _Don’t_ argue with me, _Kurusu.”_

“Oh,” Akira grinned, “I _like_ that tone.”

Goro smiled back. It wasn’t his gentle one that made him seem sweet and harmless. It was confident and inviting, and Akira realised that when Goro said ‘get ready for bed’, he meant ‘get ready for _bed_ ’. Akira couldn’t help but perk up like a dog seeing a treat, much to Goro’s obvious approval. 

“Mm, of course you do,” his boyfriend said in a low, purring tone, already moving away towards the bedroom. Ah, he was wearing his _shorts_ too, the ones that left _nothing_ to the imagination. Akira’s gaze locked onto the provocative sway of that firm ass, “Don’t take too long, Akira. As I said, I _am_ exhausted.” 

Well then. 

Akira leapt to his feet and rushed to the bathroom. Goro being so indulgent this late in the evening was a _rarity_. Akira would be an idiot not to take advantage of his boyfriend’s good mood and maybe turn this night from a complete wash into something half-way decent. He had to admit, his pride was thoroughly stung at being beaten to the punch so violently, and this was a perfect distraction from it.

He can worry about Black Mask-san tomorrow.

* * *

“Maybe he out-hacked you, Futaba.”

“No one outhacks me! I just… maybe he crawled in through the window!”

“The window had bars on them to prevent entry, so unless he could phase through solid objects…”

Futaba scowled at her screen, chewing on her thumbnail. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Akira could just about see the grainy black-and-white footage of the government building from last night over her shoulder. She was obsessively scrolling through them after learning she had missed Black Mask-san's infiltration into the building ahead of Joker. 

“My connection to you cut out too,” Futaba grumbled, “Unless that office is, like, a giant faraday cage or something… ugh, this doesn’t make sense! He’s not showing up in _any_ security footage at all!”

“Well, maybe he does. Maybe he didn’t get changed until he was in the office.”

“I doubt that politician guy was just gonna stand there and be all ‘ooh yes, Mr. Evil Assassin, I’ll let you get changed into your murder suit real quick’,” she paused, “Or, maybe he did. He was a total creep so maybe he was into that.”

Akira thought back to the sleek lines of Black Mask-san’s form-fitting bodysuit, and privately agreed that the guy was sexy enough to dazzle the slimeball that had been Ota-san. Probably not enough to sit there and let the assassin suit up to murder him though. 

“Have the police found anything?” he asked.

Futaba scoffed. That answered that then. 

Akira checked his watch and sighed, “I gotta go. I promised to meet up with Goro for lunch today.”

“You two are so gross and sappy,” Futaba said.

“How is meeting up for lunch sappy?” Akira grumbled, picking up his bag and shouldering it. He paused to give Morgana a scratch behind the ears when the cat poked his head out from under the bed, “He’s paying, anyway.”

“Oh, that’s fine then. Free food,” Futaba waved her hand distractedly, not looking away from her screen, “Bye.”

“Bye, and remember to eat! Don’t obsess.”

“Yeah, sure thing, _Sojiro.”_

Akira left Futaba’s room after that, exiting the Sakura residence with a sigh. It was a bit worrying that someone managed to outplay _Futaba_ of all people. She’d been a genius hacker when she was a teenager and now as an adult she was, quote unquote, “a cyber god”, so either Black Mask-san was a cyber god himself, or Futaba made a mistake somehow. 

He sincerely hoped it was the latter. Making mistakes was fine, but coming up against a rival who could outmatch them was less fine. 

Akira’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out and answered without looking at the ID, “Hey.”

 _“Yo, what’s bonkin’?”_ Ryuji’s voice filtered through, _“Did Futaba peg that Black Mask asshole yet?”_

“Nope,” Akira said, popping the ‘p’, “I hope you’re not yelling this in public, Ryuji.”

 _“What? Nah, I’m in my apartment. Downtime,”_ Ryuji had long since been disciplined for informing the world about their side job in public (thank you, Makoto), _“Man, I wish I’d gone with you last night. With two of us, we could’ve-”_

“It would’ve been harder. The guy almost set us up for murder,” Akira said, “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens. We’ll probably see him again, anyway.”

 _“And we’ll be ready!”_ Ryuji said optimistically, _“I hear ya, leader.”_

“Mhm,” Akira turned the corner towards Yongen-jaya’s station, “Look, I’m entering the subway now. I’ll talk to you later.”

_“Yeah, see ya!”_

Akira stowed his phone and sighed. Looked like Black Mask-san was slippery. He felt a weird mix of frustration and excitement at this - the Phantom Thieves had been unchallenged for so long, bringing justice to corrupt people in society. They didn’t _kill,_ but it seemed Black Mask-san had no compunctions about snapping people’s necks - and now he had silently positioned himself as a potential rival. 

**_(“You were taking too long. Try to keep up next time.”)_ **

“Challenge accepted, Black Mask-san,” Akira murmured quietly, finding himself smiling in anticipation. 

Honestly, things had been getting a bit boring. This might actually be _fun._


	2. Chapter 2

Akira always felt a little bit guilty when he left to do Phantom Thieves stuff. 

Goro knew nothing about it, for one. Akira told himself it was to give his boyfriend plausible deniability, if the worst ever came to pass and Akira got caught, but also maybe it was because he didn’t want to risk losing him. Goro made no secret that he disapproved of the Phantom Thieves’ tactics and vigilantism, and they had many semi-friendly debates about their ethics and the like. If Akira ever told him he was the infamous Joker, well… 

Ugh, he was too much of a coward to consider it. 

So, Goro was out of the loop, something his friends always gave him disapproving looks about. Akira was continuously lying to him, after all, dredging up excuses of visiting his friends or working at this part-time job when he was, in fact, rummaging about in the dirty laundry of the corrupt and criminal. It was a miracle the sham had held for the entire year he had been dating him, honestly.

( _“You know, he’s gonna think you’re cheating on him or something,” Ann told him sagely over ice cream. They were staking out a target’s house and the night was uncomfortably humid, “You staying out late, being vague about what you’re up to… he’s gonna make his own conclusions.”_

_“He hasn’t said anything,” Akira said._

_Ann just gave him a look like he was just a bit brainless, “It’s not the kind of thing you just confront someone about.”_ )

But Akira will get round to it. He _will_. One day. Maybe. 

Definitely not today, at least. No, today he was focused on breaking into someone’s house with the intent to hunt down an air-gapped desktop that Futaba was _adamant_ about existing. It was part of a long-term scheme of theirs to take down the most rotten of politicians, Masoyoshi Shido, but trying to snatch evidence on him was like grasping at smoke. He sure was a greasy snake. 

There was little guilt about going on this outing, though, as Goro had other things to do tonight. Some night class or other (he half-listened when Goro told him about it), so Akira could stay out late without getting that nagging worry about what would happen if Goro ever tried to _confirm_ his whereabouts. He never did, he trusted him, but that just made him feel _worse_ about the whole thing _._

“Focus,” he muttered to himself, carefully pushing down the worries of Akira and hitching up Joker’s mask. 

The house he was breaking into today was fairly well to-do: decent security alarm, a secure front _and_ back door, and thick-paned glass windows. That was fine, though, Joker didn’t need to do anything as mundane as breaking the window to enter. 

While the ground and second floor of the building was well guarded, it had a skylight leading into a furnished loft. It was amazing how many people forgot about the roof being a vulnerable point of entry, and it was no effort to silently climb onto the roof and pry open the skylight. The loft was a study, and the bedroom was the room directly below. He would have to be careful. 

Joker dropped down without so much as a noise, flicking on the flashlight built into his chestpiece (an Oracle-approved ‘spy gadget’, as she proclaimed). The red-light illuminated just enough for him to scope out where the computer and desk was, and he crept over to it, memorising the position of everything before fiddling with anything. It was amazing how people subconsciously picked up on an intruder’s visit, just because the mug they left the night before was in a different position in the morning. 

The computer was still on, rousing from sleep when he carefully nudged the mouse. A lockscreen - Rokuda-san with his two (now adult and independent) children - greeted him, followed by a prompt for a pin. Joker didn’t need that. Instead he retrieved the payload Oracle granted him, and placed it into the USB port, letting it do its thing. 

_(“It should take about five to ten minutes, depending,” Futaba said carelessly, “Unless his machine has something_ nasty _on it.”_

_“Will it have something nasty on it?” Akira asked dryly._

_“Pffft. As if!”)_

So, five to ten minutes to kill. 

Joker knew better than to roam around. He planted his feet, keeping very still as he let his mind wander to more domestic matters. He wondered what Goro’s night class was. His boyfriend was trying very hard to become a lawyer - hence the whole disagreement on vigilantism - a ‘hero of justice’, he had shyly admitted to Akira once, with the same air of someone who was far too used to being mocked for his dreams. Akira didn’t mock, and internally he wished he could torment whoever felt the need to make Goro feel like his dreams were laughable or pointless. 

_(“It’s because I’m an orphan,” Goro had said with a resigned voice, idly stirring his brightly coloured drink with its straw, “While being studious and successful in scholarships and the like can close the gap to an extent, the stigma of ‘growing up wrong’ still clings to you.”_

_“You didn’t grow up wrong,” Akira said fiercely._

_Goro laughed, it was that quiet, stilted one, whenever he thought Akira said something charmingly naive._

_“Didn’t I?” he leaned more on the table, peering up at Akira from beneath his eyelashes, “By society’s standards, being raised by a prostitute who eventually killed herself is considered shameful.”_

_Akira wasn’t sure what to say about that. Goro always adopted a distant, absent tone whenever he spoke about his mother, his gaze focusing on something far beyond Akira. It worried him a lot, but Goro didn’t otherwise seem affected by the traumatic experience of walking in on his dead mother’s body, and he assured him it happened so long ago he barely remembered it._

_Akira had a feeling it was a lie, but had no idea how to confront it._

_“Ah, haha, I’m sorry,” Goro bit his bottom lip, his gaze lowering, “I’ve brought the mood down again.”_

_“Hey, it’s okay,” Akira said, “If you ever wanna talk about that stuff, I’m always ready to listen.”_

_Goro smiled, something small and fragile, and Akira’s heart skipped several beats-)_

**_THMP_ **

Akira snapped out of his daydream.

For a long moment, all he heard was the soft _whrrr_ of the computer’s fans, the empty ringing of absolute silence in the edges of his hearing, and his steady breathing. The house creaked and settled naturally, and just as his muscles began to uncoil, there was another **_THMP._ **

Directly below. The bedroom.

Oracle’s payload hadn’t finished its task yet. 

He wavered - stay? It could just be Rokuda-san loudly getting up to go to the bathroom. Yet, he could hear other noises now - a muffled shout, more thumping, and then absolute silence. A prickling feeling of foreboding crawled from the back of his neck to the very base of his spine, and his memory flashed to clawed hands clenched around a garrote wire, a sleek, predatory beast of a man slaughtering its prey. 

_fuck,_ Akira thought, _it better not be him._

And if it was - so what? Akira wasn’t here to kill Rokuda-san, but his crimes were potent enough that he found it difficult to shed a tear if the man did have an unfortunate accident of rolling out of bed and snapping his neck in the process. But it was different, listening to him potentially being murdered only one floor below, and deciding not to lift a finger. 

_ugh,_ Akira groaned, _morality is a curse!_

Against his better judgement, he silently exited the loft, slinking down the narrow staircase where it winded in on itself in a tight spiral onto a landing. He took a moment to gather his bearings, his red light catching on the corners and edges of doorways and shapeless furniture. One door was wide open. 

**_THMP._ **

Louder, from the open door. 

Joker rolled his neck, checked his mask was firmly in place and was sufficiently disguising him, before he lightly stepped forwards. He reached the open doorway and-

“Oh, god, it is you,” he blurted without thinking. 

Looming over Rokuda-san’s bed like the grim reaper himself, Black Mask looked up from where he was hauling Rokuda-san back into his bed. It was difficult to make out with the limited light his flashlight gave, and the orange glow of the streetlights filtering through thin curtains, but Rokuda-san’s neck looked very broken. Far too broken to explain it as a nasty fall out of bed. 

_and how would someone break their neck that badly and magically appear back in their bed, anyway?_ Akira thought absently. 

“If you’re trying to make it look like an accident,” Akira continued, caught between Joker’s flippancy and Akira’s mounting anxiety, “You’re very bad at it.”

 **“Joker,”** Black Mask said, dropping Rokuda-san’s corpse and brushing his gloved hands together, like he just finished dumping the trash, **“Don’t you have a computer to hack?”**

How did he…?

“No,” Joker lied, slipping more into his persona now, slouching in a casual manner with one hand in his trouser pocket, “I’m just snooping.”

**“That was a poor deflection.”**

“You caught me off-guard,” Joker said. His mask hid it, but his disarming smile was audible in his sassy tone, “I felt like we should have staggered this. You know, de-conflicted our schedules.”

Black Mask tilted his head. 

**“You’re awfully calm,”** he observed, prowling around the bed. His thick boots hit the floor heavily, a thumping weight that said the time for stealth was past, **“For someone adamant in not murdering the scum they expose, you seem disaffected.”**

Joker took a discreet step back once the bed was no longer acting as a buffer between him and Black Mask. In the backdrop of some rich guy’s bedroom, the whole situation shouldn’t feel as threatening as it did - but Black Mask dominated the room he was in, broad-shouldered and sleek bodysuit letting Akira see the strength in that body. Joker would lose in an outright fight.

“I won't shed a tear if they drop dead due to outside circumstances,” Joker said evenly, “I just don’t pull the trigger myself.”

 **“Hmmm,”** the voice modulator crackled over that noise, a staticy growl, **“Interesting.”**

They stared at each other for a bit. 

“So,” Joker began. 

**“So.”**

“I’m going to continue to snoop,” Joker said bluntly, “You?” 

**“Clean up,”** Black Mask said, lifting a hand and counting off his fingers, **“Pick up my laundry. Grocery shopping. Bed.”**

“Um,” Joker began, having _not_ expected that sort of response. Was Black Mask fucking with him? He must be. But the scary assassin man was just staring at him, the opaque crimson lenses of his mask betraying nothing. Well, Joker guessed that beneath that body suit and murderous intentions, there was indeed a man who had to do laundry, shop for food, and sleep. 

“You’re not interested in any of the information this guy had?” Joker asked curiously, “If we’re hunting the same people…”

Black Mask grunted, **“No. This piece of shit was just a grunt. His co-conspirators… I already have their names.”**

Ominous. 

Joker opened his mouth, but the distant noise of sirens cut through the air like a hot knife, making him go rigid with alarm. Across from him, Black Mask tilted his head, utterly unconcerned. 

**“Oh my,”** Black Mask cupped his mask’s chin, something maliciously amused coiling in his modulated voice, **“I must have forgotten to disarm the alarm. How foolish of me.”**

“Are you trying to get us caught!?” Joker snapped, already bolting back for the loft. 

**“Hahaha!”**

Black Mask’s deep, artificial laughter chased his heels, but Joker didn’t have time to deal with the asshole. He scrambled up the narrow, twisting stairwell, almost tripped over his boots in an effort to reach the computer, yanking out Oracle’s payload and scrambling out of the window. 

He vanished into the night just as the police screeched to a halt outside of the house. 

* * *

After stopping by Futaba’s to drop off the USB stick (and being trapped in a lengthy rant about Black Mask when he relayed what happened), it was a little after two in the morning when Akira arrived home. He silently opened the door, tucking his bag into the hallway cupboard to deal with later. The apartment was dark, meaning either Goro was still out (doubtful) or he thankfully didn’t stay up waiting for him for once. 

Akira made sure to make some noise shuffling around the apartment - Goro had a violent startle response when woken up from a deep sleep, something Akira had suffered a few times before he got the hint (and what cemented his suspicion that there was more to Goro’s past than just ‘absent neglect from disinterested foster carers’). 

It wasn’t any of his business, and Goro didn’t have to share if he didn’t want to, but still. Akira worried. 

After deliberately tripping over the coffee table and hitting the sofa, as well as walking into the door-frame, he tiptoed through his routine of getting ready for bed, hearing a half-asleep, groggy mumble of; _“‘kira, s’at you?”_

“It’s me!” he whisper-shouted from the bathroom, squirting toothpaste onto his brush, “Go back to sleep, babe!”

Goro grumbled a groggy curse but went quiet. Adorable. 

A few minutes later, Akira slipped into bed behind his boyfriend, spooning him. Goro hummed quietly, shifting into a more comfortable position, his hand settling on Akira’s thigh resting atop of his hip. 

“S’late,” Goro mumbled, “Was worried.”

“Sorry,” Akira whispered, kissing him behind his ear, “Futaba got into one of her long, extended rants.”

“Mm…” Goro’s fingers dug into his thigh for a brief moment, “Thought you were with Sakamoto-kun.”

 _Shit._ Right, yeah, that was his alibi tonight. He must be more tired than he thought to make such a rookie mistake. 

“Yeah, we went to play Netherwatch with her after a bit,” he fibbed.

Goro accepted that excuse, his grip relaxing around his thigh, “Mm.” 

Akira listened to Goro’s breathing even out, his stomach twisting guiltily. He recalled Ann’s earlier warning ( _“You know, he’s gonna think you’re cheating on him or something”),_ and felt that prickling feeling of unease from earlier. If Goro suspected him of being _unfaithful_ and ever confronted him about it... he was so fucked. If he told him that he was the leader of the Phantom Thieves... 

_well, it might not come to that,_ he consoled himself, _goro trusts me._

He'll just have to delegate a few tasks to the others, spend more time with him, maybe try to figure out a way to let Goro in on his biggest secret without him dumping him on the spot. Ugh, this would be easier if Goro wasn't so adamant in working within the country's justice system. This country fucked him over the most, and he still bought into it, refused to consider vigilantism of a legit method of bringing about justice or adequate change.

_("It's a slippery slope, Akira," Goro chided him, "What begins as pure intentions quickly corrupts into personal gain, and then you're back to a system managed by imperfect people, but without the checks and balance of a government.")_

Akira really knew how to pick 'em, huh?

But, it was something he could worry about later - not at 2am when his eyelids felt like they were trying to seal themselves shut. He pressed his cheek against Goro's soft hair and sighed, letting himself drowse off. 

**Author's Note:**

> sweats
> 
> ye this is a. thing.


End file.
